Uphill Battles: Further Indignities from the World of Cycling

Because global warming has turned spring into a pleasing fiction from the past, we quickly transitioned from Cold to Hot here in Toronto. Unfortunately, this means that I play Russian Roulette every time I cycle home from work. Will this day be the day my head finally explodes like that guy from Scanners? Or will that be tomorrow? Or Tuesday of next week?

My apartment is in Forest Hill, which is uphill from my job. Unfortunately, it is also uphill from the border of the prehistoric mega-lake that has since receded into Lake Ontario, leaving behind a  sharp shelf for my little black bike to climb. I keep on trying to find an ideal route that combines low hill grades with Toronto's limited bike infrastructure; I keep on failing.

Instead, every day I slowly pedal my way up Spadina until my face is turned a colour Pantone has named "geranium pink." Woe to any car that tries to cross me as I power through the streets at 0.3km/hour. With my dry throat and slack mouth, my violent threats come out as "If ffnyouuuuuurnntrythattttImmmmaklzznznjnyou," but there's no mistaking the look of murder in my eyes. I'll tear their throat out with my teeth! Or pass out on their hood. Actually, if they would just hit me, they could conveniently drag me uphill.

I could get in better shape. I could buy an e-bike. But at either point, I might just do better to move.